The Daughter of Night

by Jeneth Murrey

  'So what?' At that time, Hester had been belligerent.

  'So, you'll have to explain who I am, and then that'll lead to more explanations. You'll end up telling him about Flo and how you spent the money you had from him. He'll think we're sponging off you as soon as his back's turned. No, love, I won't come unless he's there and invites me himself!' And that had been that. Mia might not be a blazing, vital personality, but she was as obstinate as all get out when she had an idea firmly in her mind. So there was nothing to do but sweat it out herself—on her own, meanwhile giving the appearance of bright normality for the sake of Katy and the other girls.

  She succeeded better than her wildest dreams. Nobody suspected a thing, not even Katy, when at half past nine, Demetrios had still not arrived. She was disappointed, it showed in her huge dark eyes, but she was also phlegmatic. These things happened. Katy was proud of her father and she had wanted to show him off to her friends, but it was not to be, and there was always another time.

  CHAPTER NINE

  By half past ten, the house seemed quiet after the uproar of the last three hours. All Katy's guests were gone, ferried home by obliging parents who perfectly understood that Hester couldn't manage seven little girls by herself, and Katy had gone off to bed, tired but happy. Hester employed herself in getting the house straight, and although it was probably bad for him, Katy's pup dined off bits of beefburger, abandoned pieces of buttered rolls and all the crisps and peanuts that remained uneaten. As a second course, he polished off a large amount of melting ice-cream and she put him to sleep in his packing case bed, grinning as he hiccuped. He was much more fun than a waste disposal unit!

  Demetrios called at half past eleven, brief and matter-of-fact. His plane had been delayed by engine trouble and had landed at Athens with more of the same trouble, then the passengers had been fed, a few at a time, into other planes bound for London. As the tourist season was getting into full swing, most of the planes could take no more than two or three people, so he had had a long wait before he was once again airborne. He was tired and didn't think it wise to drive down straight away, so he'd wait till morning—this was a call from a public phone at the airport, there were a number of people waiting to use it after him, so he would tell Hester all about it tomorrow—and with a 'Goodnight, darling', he had hung up.

  Hester stared at the circle of perforated black plastic and nodded grimly, 'So that's your line, is it?' she enquired of the mouthpiece before she slammed the receiver back into the cradle, then she smiled grimly at herself and her own naivety. Had she expected any other sort of telephone call? Of course she hadn't! She was making a big drama out of nothing. The best thing she could do was to go straight to bed, get a good night's sleep and wake refreshed and able to cope.

  The 'good night's sleep' was a washout. She lay staring into the darkness while her mind went round and round, getting nowhere. One part of her mind accepted Vilma's story, but a calm, sensible part of her dismissed it. Vilma was merely retailing a story which had been told to her and she probably believed it was the truth—there had been the vaguest hint of pity in her baby blue eyes.

  By the time the grey light of the false dawn had pushed some of the night shadows away, Hester had arrived at an inescapable conclusion. Vilma had told her the truth. Athene was a beautiful woman with a smouldering passion beneath her calm surface—if she offered, it would take a saint to refuse her, and Demetrios was no saint. He and Athene had been lovers in the past and they'd probably be lovers again and Katy was the tie between them, a constant reminder of how it had been once and how it could be again.

  And Demetrios wouldn't feel in the least guilty about it. If she, Hester, asked him, he would admit it without any shame, and in any case—she punched the pillows and closed her eyes firmly—she was going, and not because of Vilma's silly threat, which didn't frighten her a bit. She was going because it was the right thing to do. Demetrios, Athene and Katy belonged together, they were a family, whereas all she was was a bystander, somebody who had been drawn in by accident of circumstances. .

  She would have a little sleep until half past seven, then she would do all the usual things and take Katy to school. When she came back, she would pack her clothes, wait for Demetrios, explain that she had to go and that would be that. She wouldn't be emotional about it either!

  The morning light was cruel to her as she looked in the bathroom mirror after her shower. Her eyelids were puffy and there were violet stains beneath her eyes to tell of a sleepless night, but that sort of thing could be hidden and she went off to the bedroom and after dressing, set about concealing the evidence with a tinted foundation and a load of eye-shadow. She couldn't take the look of strain out of her eyes, but she could disguise it and did, so that Katy's sharp eyes didn't notice anything unusual when they sat down to breakfast.

  'Your papa phoned last night, he'd arrived in London but he was too tired to drive down. He'll be here this morning.' Hester poured tea and strove for a calm approach.

  Katy nodded while she spooned up cereal. 'He doesn't like driving when he's tired, he says that's when people have accidents,' she observed, looking up from her plate, and Hester caught her breath. For just a second, all resemblance to Athene was wiped from Katy's face and in it's place Demetrios looked out of her eyes and her mouth curved into his smile, thoroughly adult and understanding. 'Papa says we need never worry about him, he doesn't take chances.'

  'I'll be taking a few, trying to get you to school on time, if you don't rush your breakfast a bit!' Hester rose from the table and as she passed behind Katy, she squeezed her shoulder with a fond hand. 'You're happy, dear? This is what you want?'

  'Of course.' Katy pushed aside her cereal bowl and helped herself to toast. 'It's what I've wanted for a long time, ever since Miss Mungo gave me books about girls. A proper home, not living in hotels, and a papa who came home every evening so I could tell him what I'd been doing all day and have him help me with my homework,' specially the maths—I'm no good at that.' She sighed. 'I'm afraid I'm going to come bottom of the class, I don't understand algebra one little bit.'

  'But you'll be top in French,' Hester comforted, 'You can't have it all ways.'

  Driving back from delivering Katy to school, Hester rehearsed what she was going to say to Demetrios when he arrived. She had decided against slipping away unnoticed—that smacked of cowardice. She strung the words out aloud, trying them to see if they sounded right and gave the correct impression of dignity.

  'Had you come home last night…' No, that wasn't any good—start again.

  'While you've been away, I've been thinking'—that was much better—'and I've come to the conclusion that this bargain we made isn't going to work.' So far, so good—she wouldn't mention anything about Vilma's visit, that ground was too treacherous and she might find herself bogged down in emotional phrases like, 'I can't live with a man when I know he has a mistress whom he prefers to me'. Things like that were out! It had to be kept calm and practical.

  She kept on mulling over what she would say, changing a word here and there while she swiftly packed her suitcases in readiness for her departure, and when everything was ready, she went across to the dressing table mirror and tried it out again—she had to be word-perfect.

  'While you've been away, I've been thinking, and I've come to the conclusion that this strange bargain we made isn't going to work. You don't really need a wife; a housekeeper, a nice one, would do just as well, so I've decided to leave you and go back to London. Please don't bother to see me out, I'm going to phone for a taxi, and there are loads of trains…'

  '…Then I shall require an immediate repayment of twenty thousand pounds.' Demetrios' voice came from the bedroom door which she couldn't see in the mirror. 'Do you have the cash handy?'

  'You know I haven't!' She swung round to face him and all her fine, calm, practical words died on her lips, to be replaced by hot, angry ones—the ones which she'd decided not to use. 'And I wouldn't give it to you if I had. A barg
ain's a bargain, but you've cheated on me, so that washes it all out. I'm free to go.'

  'Not until you've paid your debt and explained why, when you should be greeting me with affection, making up to me for being without you for two weeks—you're behaving,' he stopped and looked at her—'and looking like a harpy. Did you know your hair's come down?'

  With a quick gasp of dismay, Hester turned back to the mirror, and nearly wept at what she saw. During her rehearsal, she had been concentrating on her expression, trying out a haughty curl to her lip and a sophisticated droop of her eyelids—now she looked at the total picture and groaned. She was unbecomingly flushed and several tumbled strands of hair were falling across her shoulders. Hastily and with trembling fingers, she pushed them back into the loose coil at the back of her neck, and while she was doing it, Demetrios crossed to the bed to lift the lid of one of the cases and examine the contents.

  'So,' he murmured with an aggravating smile about his mouth, 'you were practising your farewell speech, but haven't you made a small mistake? No nice housekeeper would perform all your duties—she'd walk out if I expected her to go to bed with me and she mightn't be the right age for childbearing. What's going on?' He made the enquiry mildly. 'Or have I come back to a madhouse?'

  'You could call it that.' Hester looked at her husband and then looked hastily away again. It wouldn't do to indulge in sentimental thoughts about how two weeks in the Mediterranean sunshine had darkened his skin to a warm, deep olive tint—how the open neck of his white shirt flattered the strong column of his throat—how good he looked, like a glass of water to a thirsty traveller or food to a starving woman—She pulled herself together.

  'Yes,' she went on, fighting against a shortage of breath which threatened to make her voice wobble, 'you could very well call it a madhouse. The whole set-up's screwy and the deeper in I get, the screwier it becomes. That's why I'm getting out, while I still have my sanity. Oh!' she squealed with temper as, with a wide swing of his arm, Demetrios swept the cases from the bed. They tumbled to the floor and one sprang open, scattering clothing onto the carpet. 'Now look what you've done!' she scolded. 'I'll have to pack that lot all over again!'

  'You'll do nothing of the kind.' Demetrios advanced on her until his broad shoulders filled her vision completely. Her heart gave one tremendous thump and started to beat erratically and her mouth went dry from fright. 'Nobody's going anywhere any more today, and certainly not you.' He made it very definite.

  'You can't stop me!' Hester flared, pushing past him bravely and starting to gather up the tumbled garments, ramming them back in the case higgledy-piggledy and forcing the lid down on the jumbled contents. 'You forgot Katy's birthday, you didn't even send her a card'—she made it sound like one of the seven deadly sins, 'and like I said, you've been cheating on me. That wipes the slate clean… Oooh! Don't stand there looking like a pillar of virtue,' she raged. 'I know all about it, I know what you've been up to, and if you think you can hop out of my bed and into Athene's whenever you fancy, you've got another think coming! She might have the stomach for that sort of thing, but I won't tolerate it. You—you lecher! I will not be made a convenience of!'

  'What makes you think I've been going to bed with Athene?'

  Hester scrambled to her feet and aimed a kick at his shins. It was rather spoiled by the fact that she was wearing soft shoes so it didn't have quite the effect she desired, but the doing of it relieved her feelings.

  'I don't just think, I know!' she squealed with wrath. 'You and she went to Athens together and you didn't stay at the hotel as you said you were going to—you didn't tell me that, but I know. You shacked up with her at her villa or whatever you call it…' The rest of what she'd been going to say died on her lips as Demetrios advanced on her and she cringed when his hands came hard on her shoulders.

  'Frightened, Hester?' Demetrios spoke between his teeth. 'You've every right to be. I was not sleeping with Athene. I've never slept with her.'

  'Liar!' she spat at him, raising her voice unconsciously.

  'Be quiet!' he commanded, giving her a shake. 'Do you want the woman to hear us quarrelling?'

  'Who cares!' She tried to squirm away from his hands, but it was no use, he was holding her shoulders as though he never meant to let go. 'She can't anyway, she's not here today, she's taking one of the children to the dentist. And don't try to change the subject— I'm talking about Katy, she's a living proof that you're lying. I know you said she's your adopted daughter, but she's more than that, isn't she? She's yours and she's Athene's as well. That's something nobody could hide—why, even Vilma spotted the likeness, and she was only looking at the photograph in the sitting-room…' With a little cry of dismay, Hester covered her mouth with shaking fingers. Damn her unruly tongue! That was the worst of losing her temper, all sorts of things came spilling out, and among them the one thing she hadn't wanted him to know. And then she realised he'd missed it, it had gone right over his head.

  'You bloody little idiot!' His fingers bit deeper into her shoulders, bruising the delicate bones, but she welcomed the pain—it kept her fighting mad.

  'Don't you dare swear at me!'

  'Swear at you? I'll damn well strangle you, and who could blame me? It's a wonder I haven't beaten you! Will you listen, instead of tearing into me like a wildcat! I told you, Athene and I are distant cousins— to be exact, our grandmothers were sisters—identical twin sisters. Yes,' as she started to wriggle again to be free of him, 'I know Katy looks like Athene, but that likeness doesn't prove she's Athene's daughter, it merely proves she's mine! Will you get that through your stupid little head? Mine, not Athene's!' and then, emphasising every word with a shake, 'Do-you-believe-me-now?'

  Hester collapsed like a pricked balloon, all her fight gone and with only bewilderment and an aching regret left.

  'Yes,' she stood quite still under his hands. 'Yes, I'll believe you—you've never lied to me—Oh hell!—You won't understand this, but I'm going!'

  'Over my dead body!' Demetrios let go of her shoulders and swept her up in his arms, striding with her to the bed. 'You've just said we're alone in the house, which makes this a very good opportunity to have things straightened out. We're going to have a talk, we'll love each other a little, and then we'll have some lunch.' He put her down gently on the bed and dropped his long length beside her, drawing her close, and with a hand on the back of her head, he pushed her face into the curve of his neck.

  'No, don't wriggle, Hester. I've got something to tell you, and it'll be easier if I can't see your face.'

  'Why?' she muttered, feeling the skin of his throat beneath her lips. 'It'll make an awful mess of your shirt.'

  'Because it's a sad little story and I'm not proud of the part I played in it.' He rested his chin on the top of her head. 'And my shirt doesn't matter. So be quiet and don't interrupt, I just want you to listen.'

  'All ears,' she assured him, feeling suddenly gay as though she'd come home to warmth, tenderness and love. 'Waggling ears,' she added, choking back a sob which was half laughter.

  'And it's no time for jokes,' Demetrios chided her seriously. 'I said it's rather a sad little story, nearly fourteen years old. At that time, my father had sent me to Cyprus where we were opening our first hotel; I had to learn the business from the ground up. I went out in April, a young man, not yet twenty-one and, like all young men, very full of myself; brash, greedy and a bit careless. One of the receptionists was a girl, about eighteen, and we became friendly. She was an orphan, her father had been a Greek Cypriot and her mother an Armenian from Thrace—that served as a common bond, as my mother was also from Thrace.'

  'But I thought your mother was Turkish.' Hester hadn't wanted to interrupt, but she wanted to get things straight.

  'She was,' he chuckled as she raised her head from his shoulder. 'You don't know very much about Greece or the Greeks, do you? Both Albania and Turkey have Greek minorities and there are Turks, Slavs and Armenians living in Greece, mostly in Thrace. There are a
lso Vlachs, who speak a Latin-based language, and some people known as Pomaks who are Bulgarian Moslems—but, to get back to this girl, she had only one relative left, an old woman who lived up in the mountains near Mount Olympus; she was lonely, starved of affection and with nobody to spend her own affection on. She chose me, we became more than friendly and, as I said, I was greedy and careless. I took what she offered without a second thought.' Demetrios paused and when he started speaking again, his voice was deep with regret.

  'In the September, I was sent for to come back to England—my parents had been in a traffic accident, my father was killed outright and my mother, although terribly injured, was still alive. Naturally I came back at once, after promising the girl I'd return as soon as possible, but I couldn't. My mother needed me and I stayed with her until she died, which was about six months later. I wrote to the girl, she wrote back to me, a pleasant letter saying she was well and waiting for my return, but I never answered that letter. I made excuses to myself—I was busy; with my father dead, there was a lot to do, a lot to learn—I couldn't leave my mother—any excuse but the real one, which was that I didn't love the girl, that she was like a holiday romance, she had no part in my real world.'

  Hester raised her head and looked into his eyes. She thought she knew the rest of the story, and the pain reflected in his face told her she was at least partly right. 'But you did go back eventually?

  'Mmm,' he pushed her head down again. 'But too late. The girl had left the hotel some time before I returned, there was a rumour among the staff that she was pregnant and, knowing her—she wasn't a promiscuous girl or anything like that—I knew the child was mine, so I set out to find her. There was only one place she could have gone, back to the old woman, so I went there. The village was bad enough, Hester—you've no idea of the poverty, but where the old woman lived, farther up the mountain, it was indescribable. She had a bit of land. Pasturage for a few goats which were her livelihood and a tiny house, one room downstairs and a bit of a loft. There were no facilities, every drop of water had to be carried from a spring, and that was where the girl had gone and where my daughter was born.' His voice dropped to almost a whisper, thick, hoarse and full of pain. 'She wasn't a strong girl and she'd had a hard time, out in all weathers with the goats—there was very little money and no doctor—nobody to fetch him if one had been available—only the old woman to do everything, and she was very angry when I arrived. I don't think she would have minded so much if the baby had died as long as the girl lived—as she said, the girl was of some use even if it was only to milk the goats—but the baby was an added burden and she was too old for it.'